Hellhounds
by apokfan
Summary: AU: John Winchester has been hunting for ways to shut down Hell, which happens to be the gateway to Demon's Dimension. Hellhounds come for his son, Sam, and Sam's best friend, Dean, is the key to everything.


**Author's Notes - **_I feel that the John stories are seriously lacking. Or at least the Winchester family in general. So here's my contribution. Please realize this is pretty AU. The births, ages, pretty much everything has been changed._

**HELLHOUNDS**

A/U: John Winchester has been hunting for ways to shut down Hell, which happens to be the gateway to Demon's Dimension. Hellhounds come for his son, Sam, and Sam's best friend, Dean, is the key to everything.

**.**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**April 1985**

John bent down to grip his knees, his breaths coming in short, rough pants, as he looked over his shoulder. For a long moment, everything was quiet and he thought he'd finally managed to outrun it. But then the howl came from a few feet behind him and he forced himself to his feet. As he ran through blurs of dark trees, the moonlight hidden under gray, gloomy clouds, he thought he heard movement from within the forest. He was pretty sure it couldn't have come from the hellhound since it was behind him. Hellhounds, while inhumanly fast, weren't _that_ fast. He chanced a glance over his shoulder again and saw a few torn shrubbery he was pretty certain weren't like that before. _Damn it must be getting closer_.

A twig snapped to his right. Then another, and another. Then leaves shook from the trees just ahead of him and he nearly skidded to a halt in confusion. Luckily John was running on instincts and those instincts were telling him not to stop or he'd be dead before he knew what hit him. But that didn't stop the sounds of breaking twigs and crunching leaves. The hellhound howled again and the noise continued to intensify, _snap_, _snap_, _snap_ and it almost sounded like firecrackers going off all at the same time now. Then there was a whooshing of still air that brushed his bare skin and made him shiver as the hellhound darted past him to chase after whatever was making the bizarre noises.

For a while, John stood frozen in place, watching as the trees around him swayed slightly in the night breeze. The moon finally came out of the clouds and shone some light into the dense forest, and John could make out the scratch marks on the trees surrounding him that must've come from the hellhound. But if the hellhound was still there, waiting for the moment John turned his back on it to lunge after him, he wasn't sure. He couldn't hear any more howls no matter how much he strained his ears. Nothing but wind and rustling leaves. He took a step back, intent as ever on getting the hell out of here before any more surprises came his way, when something darted out from a tree behind him and grabbed him hard by his good shoulder. He cried out in surprise when he was suddenly twisted around so he came face to face with a gruff looking man.

The brunette haired man couldn't be much older than John, who was nearly 20 years old. He wore a brown leather jacket and a rifle was strapped to his back. A gloved finger went up to press against his lips as he stared at John with serious brown eyes. John nodded, terrified and confused as the man gestured for him to follow. John wasn't sure why he did. Usually he didn't trust strangers so easily, especially someone that just happened to be out in the middle of nowhere where he was being chased by a dog from hell.

After several hours of what seemed to be aimless walking, John found himself staring at a junkyard, scraps of metal littering all over the ground. He glanced up at the sign by the entrance that read '_Singer Salvage Yard_.'

"This your place?" John finally asked as the man swung the gate open and they both walked through the junkyard until they came to a stop in front of a small house. It looked almost like it was going to fall apart and John wondered how anyone can live in a place like this.

The man turned to John and nodded. "Yeah. Lived here for about a year now, since my dad died."

John frowned as the two made their way inside. He plopped down on a red colored couch as the other man came to sit beside him. "I'm sorry to hear that. No one else live here with you? Don't you get lonely?"

The man shrugged and took up the remote that sat on the table in front of them. "You get used to living by yourself," he said after a moment.

John regretted bringing the topic up when he saw the man stiffen. He could tell it was a sensitive topic for the man and decided to switch gears. John had always been good at reading people; it was almost as easy as breathing. But lately the quest had been on the forefront of his mind and he often came out as insensitive when he tried getting information from people. He cleared his throat and shifted slightly in his seat. "So my name is John and I wanted to tell you _thanks_ for saving me back there."

The man grinned and clapped him on his shoulder. "You can call me Bobby and it's no problem at all."

John felt his muscles tense and bowed his head so he couldn't see Bobby's face as they lapsed into silence, waiting for the inevitable explosion of questions. When nothing came, not even a, '_what in hell were you running from_', John looked up to see Bobby studying the palms of his hands, lost in his own thoughts.

"Aren't you going to ask what was chasing me?" John asked; his expression openly curious now.

Bobby looked up finally and raised a dark eyebrow. "Are you gonna tell me the truth if I do?"

John looked at the older man sheepishly. No he probably wouldn't. Bobby took his silence for a no and laughed. "That's what I figured. But luckily for you, I already know." He stood up and stretched as John felt his eyes grow wide, suddenly more alert than ever. Bobby gave him a sideway's glance as the younger man also rose to his feet.

"Know what already?" John demanded as he tailed the man through the house to a room full of old, dusty books. He tried not to look around, heart racing, bewildered at the fact that this Bobby guy might know something about John that he would rather not share if he could help it. When Bobby ignored him in favor of picking up a book on the desk in front of the window, John scowled and spun the man around angrily so they were face to face, practically nose to nose. "What in hell are you doing? I'm trying to get answers here and you're ignoring me for a damn book?"

Bobby calmly held the book out in front of John so he could see the title. He grabbed the book from the man and read out loud, "_The Complete Collection of the Supernatural_…? What is this?"

"This, John, is your answer," Bobby said as he took the book and placed it back on the table. "I'm what you'd call a hunter, like you."

John backed away, confusion marking his face. His heart felt like it was trying to burst from his body. He felt like the book should explain something to him but it didn't. A _hunter_? Bobby was a hunter like _him_? John wasn't a hunter of anything. Or was that what people called people like John, people that were on a quest to shut down hell's gates?

Bobby looked equally confused when John looked back at him. He wasn't expecting his answer to be met with confusion. He leaned forward and studied John carefully, now unsure of how much to say to the man. "You are a hunter, aren't you?"

John shook his head, pursing his lips. "A hunter? Like hunting deer and stuff?" he asked in a joking manner. "Look man, I think you've got it all wrong."

"I'll bet," Bobby muttered, leaning back so his back was pressed against the curve of the table top behind him. "So if you aren't a hunter, what was chasing you back there? Though I think I got an inkling."

John took a deep breath and looked the older man in the eyes. His eyes darted past to the book that was lying on the table just behind Bobby. It said _Supernatural_ on the cover. Whatever the hell a hunter was…Bobby seemed to know some things already or at least had his own suspicions. "You probably won't believe me if I told you but what the hell…you did save me back there after all. It was a hellhound."

The young man tensed as he awaited a reaction. Bobby didn't laugh or crack a grin. He looked intensely back at him and John could see in the older man's eyes that he believed him, maybe even already knew. Bobby nodded thoughtfully to himself. "Just as I thought. There are signs that you can pick up on when hellhounds are near you," Bobby explained when John stared at him in apparent confusion. Then he lifted his index finger. "One would be animals. Animals have what we call a sixth sense for things like that. My dog, Rufus, for example, he clawed at the backdoor which is something he normally doesn't do. I immediately knew something was off then. Plus hellhounds got this kinda screechy howl to them, and if you listen real careful, it sounds kinda like someone shrieking from hell."

John blinked; slightly bewildered from all the information Bobby had dumped on him. He didn't know any of these. He looked at the books surrounding them in the room with interest. "How do you know all this? From these books?" he asked the older man.

Bobby grinned and pulled up the chair behind him, sitting backwards in it, his arms crossed over the headrest and his head perched calmly on his arms. "Yeah. I guess you could call me a _supernatural_ expert."

John picked up a random book to his left and started to skim through it. It had all sorts of information on old lore and myth. His head snapped up to look at Bobby. "Supernatural, huh? So why'd you call me a hunter before? I've never used the term hunter unless you're talking about hunting things like rabbit or deer," he said.

Bobby was silent for a moment before he shrugged, tilting the chair forward slightly. "As far as I know, anyone that hunts down the supernatural like hellhounds or ghosts consider themselves as hunters. I think it goes pretty far back, maybe even to the beginning of time."

John placed the book back on the pile he found it on, his head suddenly felt heavy. Did Bobby say ghosts? Were those real too? "What do you mean by ghosts?" John asked, massaging his temple. "Those are actually real?"

Bobby looked at John like he'd just grown two heads. John took an involuntary step back, suddenly feeling under the microscope, his back pressed against the wall. Then in a blink of an eye, Bobby leaned back and shook his head, the grin back in place. "Sorry. I just find it odd I rescue someone from an invisible _hell_hound and the guy tells me he doesn't have a clue on what I'm talking about," he said, putting an emphasis on the hell part.

John could see where Bobby was coming from. It was weird for someone like John to believe in demons, and hellhounds and even hell itself yet not the devil or any other supernatural creatures. He had sort of guessed ghosts were real if hell was real but to have it actually confirmed by someone else was surprisingly…overwhelming. "It is a bit odd, I guess," he conceded. "What else is real? Do you know?"

The older man nodded eagerly and picked up a few books from the floor. He handed one about vampires to John. "Vampires are said to be extinct but some people say there are still some modern day vampires living it up," Bobby explained as John flipped through the book.

It was amazing what someone could learn about the supernatural world in only a few hours. Bobby's little library collection was a goldmine, John decided as he flipped to the end of a book about werewolves. According to Bobby, werewolves still roamed free unlike vampires. They just kept real quiet and you wouldn't know about them unless you were really looking…or were unlucky enough to be targeted. John shuddered at the thought of being dinner to another person –well no, not really a person.

Then there were these things called shape-shifters and they scared the living daylights out of John. Apparently these…whatever they were constantly shifted forms, whether it was a person or something else and whenever they did, they'd gain the memories and mannerisms that made up that person. The thought that something could walk around not only dressed but also talked and acted like John was crazy.

There were a lot of myths and lore that were true and real and John wondered how he could've missed all this on his crusade to shut down hell's gate. He still didn't tell Bobby the reason the hellhound had been chasing him but he had a feeling the older hunter already had his suspicions, even if he didn't voice them out loud. It was by no accident that John had wound up in South Dakota with the invisible hound on his tail.

Hellhounds weren't often heard to go topside, usually they were _sent_ up here for a reason. John, unfortunately, was that _reason_. He was almost positive that the demons had gotten a whiff on what he was trying to do and were determined to stop him at all costs, because closing the gates to hell was a pretty _big_ deal.

**.**

**1**

**.**

**Lawrence, Kansas**

**August 2013**

17 year old Samuel "Sam" Winchester sat on the front porch of a white painted house, staring out at the brightly blue sky, the summer's ravaging heat making his bare skin burn and sweat. The front door opened behind him before a blonde haired young man dropped to sit beside him. He ran a sweaty hand over his brow and looked over. "Did you find your bike?"

Dean nodded, clasping his hands together over his knees. "Yeah. Just like you said, it was in the back of the garage. Ready to get going yet or you just wanna sit there and burn some more?" he teased, his tone playful.

Sam just rolled his eyes before getting to his feet. He helped Dean up and they went inside to the garage together. Dean had been Sam's best friend for as long as he could remember. Every summer Dean and his foster dad, Bobby, would visit Sam and his folks. It was always awesome when Dean visited because he took Sam to places the teenager never been to before. Like right now, Dean said there was a cool lake just a little ways out of the neighborhood.

"How far away is this place?" Sam asked, suddenly nervous. John had told Sam not to wander too far from home and while it was true that most places Dean tended to take him were sorta far, it had never actually been _out_ of the neighborhood.

Dean chuckled and pulled out a dark blue colored bike as Sam took out his red one. "Not that far, trust me," he said as he got on his bike. He looked back at Sam expectantly.

"Right," Sam said and hopped on his.

The pair rode out of the neighborhood in fifteen minutes before Dean made a left turn. Sam followed his lead. It was quiet today, and Sam was actually able to count the cars that sped past them on one hand. After twenty minutes of blurred trees, shrubbery and road, Dean had cut through the brushes to their left, riding down a sort of hidden trail, Sam not too far behind. It was kinda weird that Sam never knew this was here before. He would've thought he'd notice by now since he always took this road to and from school.

The trail ended near a clearing of lush, green grass and Dean came to halt near the edge of the lake. "So what do you think?" Dean said with a grin, getting off the bike and kicking the kickstand out.

Sam looked around in wonder. "It's pretty cool," he said, his gaze lingering on the clear body of water in front of them. He parked his bike next to Dean's. "How'd you know where this place was?"

Dean shrugged. "The internet."

Sam gave his friend an incredulous look. "Since when do you _research_? Isn't your motto, 'just do it, not read it' or some crap like that."

"Oh c'mon, Sammy. It's not like I…condone research. It just doesn't happen to be my favorite pastime. But anyways, yeah, I_ told_ you this place would be cool," Dean said, looking around with a proud grin.

The place they were at felt like Sam stepped into a surreal dream. It gave off a kind of weird, secretive vibe and Sam wondered how anyone could possibly miss something like this. He'd never, ever heard of a lake so close to his neighborhood before, and if he didn't see this with his own eyes, he'd have thought Dean had been playing a joke on him. But he was here with Dean, in front of this miraculous, shining lake surrounded by thick, lush grass and trees twice the normal size. It was like Sam moved from reality to fantasy the moment he rode off the main road. And Dean…despite saying he found this place through the internet, he looked almost as if he'd been here before, which was impossible since he already told Sam he'd never, ever lived in Kansas before.

Still, Dean looked weirdly at home here. Well if Dean was keeping secrets, that was sort of fine by Sam. It wasn't like Sam didn't have any secrets he kept from Dean anyway. He coughed into his fist, suddenly uncomfortable. "You OK there, Sammy?" Dean asked, and Sam could hear the concern heavily laced in it.

He nodded, touching his hand to his forehead. "Yeah, totally fine." He plopped down on the grass and looked out at the water. "I just can't believe my dad never told me about this place," he muttered. He heard Dean drop next to him.

"OK, so I may have lied," Dean admitted quietly. "I didn't actually find this place on the internet."

Sam tensed, even though he already figured that. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Dean said with a slight nod. "Look I haven't told this to anyone, not even Bobby, so you gotta keep it between us, OK, Sammy?"

Sam hesitated, feeling his heart racing in his chest. He was now being entrusted with Dean's secret and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. He swallowed nervously and finally nodded his consent.

"I've been having these weird dreams lately," Dean said. "They start out all the same. I'm standing near a lake, _this_ lake, and I'm staring out over there." He pointed to a cluster of trees to Sam's right. "It's weird. I don't know why I always stare at them in my dreams, but I do. Nowhere else too, it's always that spot. And it's like that for maybe a minute, maybe more, but I can't ever turn my head. Left, right, up, down, _nada_. It's like I'm just stuck." Dean sighed and shrugged. "It starts to get really weird this next part. It's always right before I jerk myself awake. I see this pair of dark, red eyes just…glaring at me."

Sam shuddered at the disturbing image of a pair of floating, red eyes glaring back at him through a thicket of trees. "That's pretty creepy," he said.

"Yeah," Dean agreed.

Sam let out a ragged breath as he came up with the decision to tell Dean his own secret. In a hushed whisper, he told Dean, "I've got a secret that no one knows too."

"Yeah?" Dean said, blinking back at him.

Sam nodded. Not even his parents knew what he was about to show Dean. "Watch this," Sam said and plucked out a single blade of grass. Dean raised an eyebrow, but Sam wasn't done. He stared at the grass hanging limply between his thumb and finger, and watched blankly as it erupted into a blaze of fire.


End file.
